Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1887-10-21
CHAPTER XIV.

These two poor children stood side by side
in the greenhouse, dumb with sorrow, almost
incapable of thought, as though their hearts
were scorched by lightning. For poor
Suzanne to be obliged to tell this fearful tale.
which she had buried so deep in her young
heart that her father had not discovered it in
ten long years, was almost like living it over
again in reality. She had said truly she
was doomed to lonely, loveless life. And
she loved Raymond with deep and abiding
passion, but n hopeless one
Raymond had thought nothing could aug
ment his love for Suzanne before, but now
this revelation showed him her noble charac-
ter, and his love centupled mingled with n
respect so profound that it bordered upon
veneration, and deep compassion filed lis
soul for tho sufferings this young girl had
so worthily borne.
"Now," said she, "you know all Let us
say one last adicu."
"Adieu3 mol a thousand times no. My
! life belongs to You now, more than ever. l
sh all live to suffer with and for YOU
"Oh Raymond, we must say goojby;
prefer to feel myself alone to suffer and to re-
member. Leave me to my solitude and sor-
row."
But he nnswcred; "Iprefer TO love you and
shall always do So"
Then they said goodby, sadly and sorrow
fully, without more than hand clasp and a
lingering look
He rushed out into the forest, where he
wandered about, not knowing or caring
where, and not returning to his home until
late at night.
Suzanne sat weeping for O while, and then
gathered up her strength to try and reach
her own room. As she passed a large plant
which stood between her and the door lead
Ing TO the house she found her father lying
unconscious on the floor, not ten feet from
where she had stood with Raymond, and he
had heard all.
She threw herself on her knees beside him
md kissed him wildly. She called for assistance
while feeling his chest to discover if his heart
beat. 1t did, but feebly, and she called him
by endearing names. She opened a window
to give him air. Servants came and they did
everything they could to restore him, but it
was one long hour before he revived.
Remembrance came to him with conscious
ness, and he heaved a deep sigh, and reclosed
his eyes ard lay for a time in silence gather
ing his faculties Finally he signed to the
servants to leave him, and when they were
gone he said with effort: $50, then, unhappy
child you have not forgottenp
Suzanne knelt beside him and hid her face
on his breast, weepisg bitterly.
do not cry. 1t is not your fault, my poor
lamb. We cannot command our memory.
But you have given Inc great pain. l never
suffered so acutely since the day / saw your
mother and you accuse me, by your silence,
before the judge What shall do to prove
toyoul For, my child, am innocent Of that
crime. l am innocent, Suzanne, Do you
hear mein
'Oh, father, the past is gone; let us forget
1t and be happy together, you and l."
mo, the question is now opened between
US and you must know ALL l was and am
still victim
But mother and l saw youn-
"Saw me, oh, child saw me kill that poor
old mans"
ayes: we were on the balcony. We saw
you como up the street, hiding under the
shade of the trees. We called you, but you
did not answer Then you went into the
house. There was n man there counting
money, then a horrible struggle, then Il pistol
shot, and darkness"
The young girl placed her hands before her
eyes.
"And you both knew mei'
II assure you we did. That is why my
mother made me promise silence for what
we must have said would have been so dread
full"
"But you We're so young, you might have
been mistaken"
II was young at night, father, but l have
been Old ever since. If have ,ppeared gay
it was to render you happy. But, mother;
she could not have been mistaken, too, could
she?'
"Yes, my child. did not commit that
crime, and only enc person believed in my
innocence-Lucien De Noirville, He OWNED
the truth, and his death was caused 10y it.
Listen, Suzanne. The time has come when
must tell you all, and though | am ashamed
through all my nature to have to tell you
this, it must be told, and it will be an
other punishment added to those l have
already borne. Do you remember all the in
cidents relating to that trialp
"Alas father
"That which condemned me more than all
was that the money had paid the dead man
was found in my possession, and ] will tell
you about that
And then Roger began at the beginning
and told the whole story until the end, though
as he told her about the woman who had
brought the money, he blushed painfully with
shame.
She blushed, too, but believed every word
of that unhappy story, and felt that her
father was indeed an innocent man, victim of
some foul plot.
"Oh, father, pardon me-" she cried, as she
knelt beside him, and she covered his hands
with pentential kisses and tears.
Il forgive you freely. my child. You could
not have known"
"But, father, some one was guity-some
one who looked like you, was dressed like you
whom and l mother saw. Who can he beF'
"That is where the mystery begins, my dear
There is guilty one, and my presence in
France il for the sole purpose of discovering
lin. l feel that shall not die until / have